


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #15

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Barista Blaine, Drabble, Established Relationship, Family, M/M, Prompt Fill, Romance, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>theperksofbeingcaroline asked you: prompt: the first time burt meets cooper at some sort of family gathering :) </p><p>geektriforceteam asked you: prompt request: In Irish Coffe part 2, Kurt imagines Thanksgiving/Christmas with his dad, himself, Blaine, and Cooper. Could you write the first holiday with the four of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #15

Cooper is fidgeting.  Blaine can’t quite see his brother, who is in the backseat of the rented car, but he can hear him even over the road noise.  He can hear the tapping of Cooper’s fingers on the window and the rustle of his heavy jacket against the leather seats as he shifts about restlessly.  Cooper’s been twitchy and uncomfortable from the moment they arrived at JFK, bright and early that morning, and Blaine’s been trying to calm him down ever since.  But Cooper will not be soothed or placated.  He’d pulled away from the hand Blaine attempted to place on his arm and he had ignored the cup of coffee Kurt pushed in his direction.  Blaine had cast a desperate, confused look at Kurt, who had shrugged and taken a hold of the hand that Cooper refused.

Blaine is so used to his brother taking care of him, of being there for him, of being the rock of their broken little family that he feels completely out of his depth with a Cooper who isn’t the confident,  _au fait_  older brother.  He doesn’t know why Cooper is acting like this, especially when he’d been so eager to join them for Thanksgiving at Burt’s, and Blaine doesn’t know how to fix it.  It makes him anxious, makes his belly churn unhappily and his leg jostle until Kurt reaches across the gearshift and places a calming hand on his thigh.

Kurt is driving (Burt had offered to pick them up from the airport again, but Cooper had steadfastly refused and gotten them a rental car) and Blaine can’t stop glancing back at Cooper.  His brother is staring resolutely out of the window at the passing scenery.  There’s snow on the ground, if not in the air, and all the trees are stripped bare and standing starkly along the highway.  Cooper had gone pale when they’d driven past the exit for Westerville, but by the time Kurt turns onto Burt’s street, the color has returned to his cheeks.  Mostly.

Burt’s home is warmly lit and delightfully cheery against the grey November skies when Kurt pulls into the driveway.  There’s a big and vibrantly colored Thanksgiving wreath hanging on the front door and it makes Blaine grin happily.  There aren’t candles in the windows or lights along the eaves, but there might as well be. (Those will come later, Blaine knows.)  He remembers last Christmas and the wreath that had been on the door then, and the huge, gaily decorated tree in the living room, and the handmade stockings hanging over the fireplace.  He remembers Kurt’s arms around his waist, strong and reassuring, and the way the words - held down deep inside for so long - had bubbled out of him, infinite and everlasting.

 _I love you_.

Blaine thinks he might really love the holidays now.  Blaine catches Kurt’s eyes over the roof of the car – bright and sparkling and so blue it almost hurts to look at him – and knows he’s remembering that too.  Happiness blooms warm and wonderful in Blaine’s chest, the way it always does when he sees Kurt. 

“Ok,” Blaine says to Cooper when they’ve gotten their overnight bags out from the trunk and are gathered in front of the house. “Just, be yourself.  But not, you know,  _all_ yourself.”

“Blaine, I know how to behave around parents.”  Cooper rolls his eyes before he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair and then tugs at the cuffs of his coat (Marc Jacobs, given to him to keep after a photo shoot with GQ).  Blaine hasn’t seen him this uneasy in a long time, especially not over something so seemingly innocuous.  This is just Thanksgiving; it’s just food.  But Cooper’s shoulders are drawn tight and he’s shifting his weight from foot to foot.  Blaine can see the flicker of movement in his cheek as his jaw clenches and unclenches.

“So then what’s all this?”  Blaine waves his hand around.  Kurt is looking uneasily down at his feet. 

“It’s just – it’s  _fathers_.”

 _Oh_.  And Blaine suddenly gets it.

Their father is cold and distant, too wrapped up in his own life and his own concerns to care about anyone else.  Their mother couldn’t stay, and neither could Cooper, not when they both had the chance and opportunity to leave.  It was Blaine, only Blaine, who was left in the big, chilly house with too many rooms and too few doorways out.

But Burt is nothing like Mr. Anderson.  He is kind and endlessly supportive and so incredibly loving that Blaine is constantly blown away by him and his relationship with Kurt.  Blaine doesn’t know where he and Kurt will end up – he can’t know – but he wants, he  _hopes_  that it ends with him being able to call Burt  _dad_.

“Coop,” Blaine starts, and he takes a step towards his brother.  But Cooper squares his shoulders, shakes out his wrists, and sets his chin and Blaine stops.

“No.  I’ve got this, B.”

Blaine watches as Cooper grabs the strap of his bag, throws it over his shoulder, and marches resolutely towards the front door.

“He’s certainly intense about this, isn’t he?” Kurt asks, sliding up next to Blaine and slipping his arm through the crook of Blaine’s elbow.

“He’s Cooper.  He’ll have your father hiring him as a shop assistant in an hour.”

***

The table fairly groans under the weight of a massive turkey, mashed potatoes, candied yams, fresh baked rolls, and all manner of vegetables and salads.  There are only four of them, and a twenty-five pound bird is a bit of overkill, but that didn’t stop Cooper from going to town.  There is both an apple and a pumpkin pie waiting off to the side, baked by Kurt the night before to leave room in the oven for today, and Blaine brought a pound of Thanksgiving Blend for them to enjoy after the meal.

The kitchen, the whole damn house, smells richly of rosemary and sage, of spiced apples and baked pumpkin.  Blaine can’t remember the last time he had a proper Thanksgiving; he and Cooper do the best they can with what they have.  He tries not to think about the last one, when Kurt was just a few minutes away from him, alone on the holiday, and he didn’t even realize it.  Blaine closes his eyes and breathes in deep.  The past is past, and they have all the Thanksgivings in the world to make up for a silly miscommunication a few months into their relationship.

Cooper is wearing an apron with a candy cane in a fairly inappropriate location (where he found it is anyone’s guess) and he’s got a smear of flour across his cheek.  He’s been dancing around the kitchen all day – checking yams, whisking gravy, stirring the stuffing so the bottom doesn’t burn – while Kurt and Blaine took a slow walk through the neighborhood and napped on the couch.  They’d wanted to help – begged to help – but Cooper had insisted that this was his way of earning his stay in the spare bedroom.  Blaine knows better than to argue with Cooper when he’s got his mind set on something.

“Where did you learn to do all this, son?”  Burt asks.  He’s already seated at the dinner table, sipping from a glass of sparkling cider.  Cooper had gently, but firmly, nudged him away from the oven as soon as they’d finished up the light breakfast of coffee, toast, and oatmeal that Blaine had thrown together that morning.  Burt had grumbled good-naturedly, but relinquished command of the meat thermometer.

“Someone had to feed Blaine,” Cooper responds.  “Otherwise he would have eaten Spaghetti-Os cold out of the can until he made himself sick.  And that stuff is hard to get out of clothing, let me tell you.” Cooper says, throwing a wink back over his shoulder at his brother, and Blaine flushes furiously. 

He’s setting the table with plates and glasses while Kurt folds cloth napkins into little pyramids.  Kurt meets his eyes and knocks his shoulder into Blaine’s.  He’s grinning, happy and beautiful, and Blaine just wants to grab his face and kiss him (he wants to kiss him always).  He doesn’t, but only because his brother and Kurt’s father are mere feet away from them.

Burt chuckles and his voice is deep and wonderfully gruff.  “Kurt here ate nothing but Cheerios in chocolate milk and Goldfish crackers dipped in Ranch dressing for at least three months when he was five.  Even my Liz couldn’t get him to look at anything else.”

It’s Kurt’s turn to blush and Blaine slides his hand across Kurt’s lower back and around his hip, squeezing lightly.  Kurt sighs contentedly and leans into the curve of his waist.  His body is warm and familiar and Blaine doesn’t care about the  _look_  that Cooper shoots him or the way Burt is trying not to smile at the two of them.  Blaine lets himself press a gentle kiss to Kurt’s cheek and Kurt’s surprised little smile makes Blaine’s belly wriggle in delight.

 _Family_ , Blaine thinks.   _This is family_.  And it’s like the first sip of hot chocolate on a cold and stormy winter night when the rain is lashing harshly against the windows and the wind is howling around the eaves.  It slides along his skin, down his limbs, and sinks into every cold and lonely place left inside of him.  Blaine wants to keep this feeling – the fullness in his heart and the contentment in his soul – forever.  He’s pretty sure that’s exactly what his future holds for him.

“All right, everyone,” Cooper claps his hands together.  “Let’s sit and eat until we have to roll ourselves into the living room.”


End file.
